


Lucifer

by cytrusekk



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 09:54:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16156676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cytrusekk/pseuds/cytrusekk
Summary: "Tell me a story, Thoros."





	Lucifer

"Tell me a story, Thoros," said Beric, staring into the fire. Thoros couldn't bear the heat and was sitting a few feet behind him. The other men lay down even further, as the night was warm and the fire Beric built was too big to sleep near it. They were the only two up; Beric had no need for sleep tonight and if Beric didn't sleep, neither did Thoros. Sometimes his body forced him to rest, his eyes closing involuntarily and mind falling into unconsciousness, but he could only sleep peacefully when he heard his friend breathe beside him, slow, steady and alive. "Something about yourself, from before."  
  
"I am not very fond of those memories," said Thoros, scraping the ground with a stick. It wasn't the first time they had this conversation, but he didn't mind as long as he had Beric to ask and he could answer. Sometimes he appeased him with a hunting story, sometimes one from his youth. He didn't have a lot to share and of those - even less that he _wanted_ to share.  
  
Beric waited while Thoros was gathering his thoughts.  
  
"There was a tournament in King's Landing and I, believe it or not, used to be pretty good at tournaments. I loved to see those pricks dressed in fancy cloaks in the mud and horseshit, bested by a fat drunkard with no family name behind him"- he chuckled mirthlessly and sighed before continuing-  
"Most of the times, the lords with their shiny banners didn't even bother to shake this drunkard's dirty hand. There was one, though… I won the fight, so I took my leave to search for a next drink. I expected him to leave also, as they always did. But he scrambled to his feet and ran after me. He grabbed me by the shoulder and when I turned around-- he had the brightest smile I'd seen in my life. Maybe it was my drunken stupor, but there was something about the man that made me think I would do anything he asked me to and whatever he asked would be the only chance for me to clear the rubbish heap I made of my life."  
  
"And did he?"  
  
"Oh, yes. He asked me to have a drink with him."  
  
Beric snorted and turned the good half of his face to Thoros.  
  
"Well, I could have expected that one," he said, shaking his head, but smiling. His smile was still as bright and blinding to Thoros as lightning.  
  
"And it indeed was the only chance given to me, I think. Never felt anything like that since."  
  
Beric's smile faltered, but Thoros moved quickly to kneel beside him and ease his frown with a gentle touch of his hand and a loyal whisper.  
  
"Of course I'm talking about you, my lord."  
  
Beric bowed his head and Thoros brought their foreheads together, one hand resting on the back of Beric's neck.  
  
"You are following a shadow dancing by the fire," whispered Beric, barely louder than his thoughts.  
  
"I am following the Lord's chosen. I am the shadow to your light, Beric, and I cannot imagine what I did to deserve to bask in this grace."  
  
Beric's lips ghosted over Thoros' temple and Thoros shivered and closed his eyes, giving himself to the caress. The fire was too hot, too close, but he didn't dare to move away.  
  
"I wish I could give you more. More than this husk I am becoming."  
  
Their lips touched, just barely, without a sound.  
  
"You need to rest," Beric said, cupping Thoros' cheek in his palm. Thoros' heart sank, but he was ready to obey and go join the others, even if he wouldn't be able to fall asleep.  
  
"But lie down here, by me."  
  
Thoros almost ran for his furs, too eager to get back. Even though he knew how fond Beric was of him, he couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion whenever he showed - could show - his affection and trust.  
He made a makeshift bed behind the log Beric was sitting on; he knew he would keep the fire through the night so he could at least take off his overclothes. Beric watched as if he was stripping naked.  
  
"Never seen an old man before?" Thoros muttered, glad that the night hid his flustered expression. Beric raised an eyebrow and the corner of his lips twitched in amusement. Thoros hurried under his cloak and leaned back on the log, facing the dark woods.  
  
"What do you think about, these nights?" he asked after a long period of silence. He didn't mind Beric taking his time to answer. He wouldn't mind if he didn't answer at all.  
  
"Trying to remember. It's like an itch you cannot scratch, that word on the tip of your tongue. It drives me insane."  
  
It was the Lord's plan to keep Beric alive, but Thoros felt ashamed of how keenly he adhered to it, allowing for this man's suffering, feeding his own desires under the guise of reverence.  
  
"But sometimes I listen to you breathe. In and out. Like a chant, it quiets my thoughts."  
  
When Beric falls, it is fear that makes Thoros scramble to his body and mumble desperate prayers. _I'm not ready, I'm not ready, not now, not yet_ he convinces himself. His curse was that death allowed him to bargain with it. Or so he thought.  
But among all of this, there was the man neither dead nor alive, lost, with one foot behind the veil and the other bound to this world by a chain of Thoros' making.  
  
"Please forgive me," he whispered, barely audible, his head hanging low and guilt pooling inside him. He felt Beric's hand on his shoulder, but couldn't face him.  
  
"It is as it must be," Beric said gently, rubbing a spot between Thoros' shoulderblades with his thumb. "I am not here out of my own will, but when time comes, I will be allowed peace. However it may seem, it's not up to you or me to decide. And I am glad to have you accompanying me."  
  
"I would follow no other," Thoros assured, but he couldn't shake the shame. Beric, being slowly stripped of his emotions, ambitions and desires, did not feel this kind of ambiguity. He saw himself losing all those human qualities and looked into Thoros' heart and soul with fascination, feeling sometimes that his red priest was the only thing keeping him from going feral, turning into an idea. But even as Thoros' touches and whispers were slowing down his descent, they could not stop it, nor raise him up.  
  
Beric started humming, a melody he did not remember the words to. Thoros recognized it, but did not join in.  
_the shadows come to dance, my love_  
_the shadows come to stay_

**Author's Note:**

> I sure hope there aren't a lot of mistakes here. Sorry if some phrases are awkward!


End file.
